


dread in my heart

by antleros



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Author is a Clay | Dream Apologist (Video Blogging RPF), Author is a TommyInnit Apologist (Video Blogging RPF), Backstory, Basically Dream Was Possessed And Now Has To Suffer, Clay | Dream Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Crying, Depression, Dissociation, Flashbacks, Forgiveness, Hurt Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, I'll Add More Tags With Chapters, I'm An Everyone Apologist, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Manipulation, Pandora's Vault Prison, Possession, Prisoner Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Self-Harm, Starvation, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, The Sleepy Bois Are Related In This, This One's Gonna Be Long, TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Whump, but it will get better, hopefully
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:00:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29718936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antleros/pseuds/antleros
Summary: When Dream woke up in a prison cell he didn't know where he was. All he knew was he finally had his body back (maybe? mostly) and no way to tell anyone whatever Night had done wasn't him. Maybe they wouldn't care, anyway.They would care, very much so, but the problem was that they don't know.or; Dream was possessed to allow me to redeem his character, and deals with the inhumane prison he has now found himself in and the people who think he is a monster.Until they don't and they realise the severity of his situation.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Cara | CaptainPuffy & Clay | Dream, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF) & Everyone, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Sam | Awesamdude & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, maybe dnf I haven't decided, ok I have decided
Comments: 34
Kudos: 736





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ayo! i haven't written a fic in a while but I've been hyper fixated more than usual lately. this is quite dark/graphic with descriptions of self harm so please don't read if you might get triggered. my update schedule is none existent and entirely reliant on when i get random bouts of motivation, so sorry about that and pls don't expect regular update but i will try to update as often as i can. hope you enjoy <3  
> also: i started this after tommy's first visiting dream in prison stream so it may not follow canon fully, however i will probably incorporate parts of more recent plot points into future chapters. idk if im gonna do much about the egg yet  
> edit: i have planned this story out now, its gonna b pretty long hopefully. im Excited   
> title from dread in my heart by mother mother

It had taken a little while for Dream to work out exactly what had happened, and he still wasn’t sure he had it entirely right. Night certainly didn’t help him fill in any blanks- the dreamon was curled around his mind like always, even though its powers had been significantly subdued. It seemed to find Dream’s obsidian cell about as mind-numbingly suffocating as Dream did, resulting in long periods of time where it would go into a sort of hibernation state. Dream still wasn’t sure if these states were a relief or not- these moments of clarity where he had clear control of his body and thoughts were like cruel glimpses of a freedom he longed to have but couldn’t. No amount of begging for Sam to listen would make a difference. It’s not like he could explain to Sam anyway, for fear that the mention of the dreamon would awaken it and cause it to become angered like it always did when he tried to break free- and the pain for trying to even mention its name was worse than any other pain he’d ever felt. The likelihood of Sam even believing him was so low he didn’t think the pain required was worth it, and Night’s whispers of _He’ll never believe you_ and _You deserve to be here, anyway_ certainly didn’t encourage him to try. 

Night was right, anyhow. He’s sure he could’ve done more to stop Night, to lessen the pain the dreamon was determined to cause, but he’d been so bone-deep tired, trapped inside his own body with any attempt at defiance instantly quelled by Night’s ability to inflict bouts of intense agony. He’d tried a lot more, at the start. But he’d been so _tired,_ so _muddled_ , and had felt his body spew words he didn’t mean over and over, destroying the relationships he’d cared about the most. He’d watched in horror as Night gave Wilbur stacks of TNT, fought alongside Schlatt, exiled Tommy and repeatedly destroyed his items, and had tried his hardest to regain control as Tommy’s face lit up with the glow of miles of lava he’d been very close to jumping into. NIght had laughed at him, sinister satisfaction mixing with excitement as he told Tommy it wasn’t his time to die and as Dream’s mind became enveloped with increasing bouts of hopelessness, eventually resigning himself to just watch on in desperation, fearful that any more defiance against Night might cause him to prevent Dream from being aware of his body’s actions at all. 

A lot of his time with Night was a blur. Night had spent a lot of it teasing him, whispering lies and truths into his ear so often he wasn’t sure what was real and wasn’t, and the few times when Night felt inclined enough to let Dream take temporary control, for whatever reason, all his body could do was tremble as he tried to make sense of his environment after close to months being out of control of his own movements, before Night forced him back, cooing at him like he was some poor lamb unable to walk without stumbling. 

Night was rarely angry, instead finding joy in weaving it’s strings between everyone on the server and in keeping Dream in line like a drugged dog. Which is what frightened Dream so much when Night was suddenly overcome with rage, clouding Dream’s every thought and leaving him in a confused and terrified daze, unable to make sense of what was happening until Night retreated to the back of his mind completely and Dream ‘woke up’ in his own body again, and after a few tense minutes waiting for it to be snatched away, he realised Night was content to let Dream keep it for now, and he found himself bursting into tears. 

After several minutes of involuntary sobbing, of which he wasn’t sure was caused by relief or exhaustion, his mind finally cleared enough for him to process his surroundings. 

He was in a room made of obsidian on all sides except one, which instead had lava flowing down continuously. The room was fairly empty, consisting only of a clock, a pool of water, a cauldron, a chest and a lectern. He was fairly confused, but he initially was unable to process any emotion other than relief as he felt the cold press of the obsidian against his hands and the warm radiation of the lava on his face. 

He eventually allowed himself to stand, shakily, and walk around the small room to figure out where he was. He found several empty books in the lone chest, alongside a few quills and ink pots. There wasn’t much else to go on, the clock telling him it was mid-afternoon and little else. He splashed some of the water from the cauldron onto his face and grinned widely at the feeling of cool droplets of water slowly dripping down across his skin. His eyes began to water up again at the feeling of a physical sensation, and he splashed his face again a few more times to solidify the fact that he was indeed here and that Night was indeed currently retreating in the back of his mind, angered but subdued. 

This was when Dream realised the mask was nowhere to be seen- causing another jump in excitement and hope. He’d used the mask long before Night had ever found him, but Night had used it as a beacon for his influence over Dream, a vessel of sorts that strengthened its leeching connection to Dream and made escaping its hold practically impossible. But now it was gone. And while Night still remained attached to Dream’s mind- he couldn’t allow himself to forget that part- it would never be able to have the level of terrifying and complete control over Dream again, unless it found the mask. And Dream was fairly certain he would rather die than let that happen. 

Dream was very quickly able to come to the conclusion that the reason he was here, in some sort of prison cell- though it was unlike any sort of humane prison cell Dream had ever seen- was that Night had finally been able to be subdued by the server and Night, being frustrated and full of wounded pride and boredom, with a lessened control over Dream, was now sulking instead of gripping his mind tight and filling it with poison. 

He could vaguely recall some talk of Night’s about a prison- a ‘Pandora’s Box’, so he assumed Night’s malicious intent had finally backfired, trapping the dreamon in the very place it had intended to exert its brazen power over the innocent members of the server. 

He cupped his hands and drank a handful of water, the feeling of cool liquid dripping down his throat comparable in that moment to ambrosia. He shakily used the water to clean the grime off his face that remained from fights he couldn’t remember and he ran his hands through his hair, gently pulling apart the many knots that had formed in between the strands that were significantly longer than the last time he remembered them being. 

After slowly getting used to being back in his body again, the exhaustion of the last few months hit him all at once, overwhelming him, so he sat against the obsidian wall, which was unpleasant and hard against his back, and closed his eyes. 

Night didn’t sleep. 

Dream decidedly did. So as soon as his eyelids closed his body went with them, slipping into the deep sleep that his body so desperately craved. 

\------------------------------- 

He should've known Night wouldn't just sit doing nothing in the back of his mind forever. He couldn't escape the prison- Sam was far too good at what he did for that- and it couldn't take control of Dream's body for long periods of time anymore, and found it pointless to try, so it took to whispering to Dream instead. 

When Dream woke up, rested and feeling better than he had since Night had first appeared, apart from an ache in his back from lying across the obsidian, Night immediately began to purr into his ears. 

_-We're in prison now, Dream. We've finally been caught. We've been stopped_

**_-You've been stopped, you mean_** he shot back, instinctively flinching at the anticipation of pain, but relaxing when Night made no indication of being able to hurt him anymore without the mask present. 

_-No. We. You deserve to be in here with me too, Dream_

_-No. You caused this. I didn't want to do anything! You made me hurt my friends and **you're** the one responsible!_

_-You're not such a saint. You could've taken control. You know it, Dream. Sure, I hurt you, but if you kept trying, if you cared enough, you would've been able to take control, at least for long enough to not hurt anyone. You may hate me Dream but you know I would never lie. You could've done it._

_-No! I-_

_-What? It hurt too much? How selfish. All that time and effort you spent whining and crying all pathetically you could've spent overcoming my control. You deserve this as much as I do. Besides, you let yourself get possessed by me in the first place_

_-N-No-! I-! I didn't know you would do all this-_

_-No. You just thought I was some helpful tool you found in a woodland mansion that would help you become better at fighting. Well, you became **my** helpful tool instead. No actions without consequences, Dream. How would the server react even if they knew you were possessed? If you convinced them you couldn't have taken control? You tell them you got possessed because you wanted a quick and easy way to power up while they all worked hard to get where they are. They'd say you deserve it, Dream. Me possessing you was your punishment and this prison is now **our** punishment for what we did since then. Don't you see? We're as bad as each other. _

_-B-But-_

_-You know what I'm saying is true, Dream. You may as well accept it. We're stuck here forever now, in case you missed that while you were spacing out. That's a pretty long time._

Dream stared down at his hands, smooth skin covered in scars now trembling, and clenched them painfully, fingernails digging into his palm. Night was right. He did deserve this. He should be grateful he wasn't dead and make the most of what he'd been gracefully given in this cell. He looked over at the clock that showed it was late in the night, and smiled softly as he imagined what his friends- ex-friends- would be doing now. 

George would have probably been asleep for a while now and for a while still, snoring lightly like he always did, and when he would eventually wake up his hair would be lightly tousled from sleep and he would yawn loudly and spend longer wrapped in his blankets then might be deemed necessary before leaving his bed. 

Sapnap would either still be awake, or be sound asleep, head tucked in Karl or Quackity's lap, arms around them both, likely to be woken when Karl slipped out of their bed to have an early morning pee before sleepily beckoning him back to bed. 

A tear slipped down his cheek and he furiously rubbed it away. It was his own fault that he couldn't be with either of them right now. He didn't deserve to cry about them. 

_You're no longer king, George_

_Do you think he still cares about me?_

_I don't give a fuck about anything, actually_

That didn't stop the tears from silently dripping down his cheeks as he took the clock out of its item frame and cradled it gently in his hands, drawing his knees to his chest and clutching it tight, as if he would lose all connection to his friends if he let go of it even momentarily. 

Night watched from his mind in silence. 

\-------------------- 

The first time he ate the raw potatoes that were disposed through a mechanism next to the pool, he hadn’t cared about the bitter taste, he was just thrilled to feel the crunch between his teeth and the feeling of swallowing food that then settled in his stomach. But he soon became disgusted with the taste and texture, finding them hard to eat and wishing that he could at least be given some bread occasionally to help the bitter aftertaste that almost permanently resided in his mouth. They made him feel nauseous for hours afterwards, head spinning and an uncomfortable stabbing pain in his stomach. 

_-You don’t deserve anything else. You’re lucky they feed you at all_

He stopped eating them. 

\------------------- 

There wasn’t much to do in his cell. At first he revelled in his renewed ability to experience things from his own five senses, uncorrupted by Night, but there was only so many times that drinking water and running your hands across different textures could be considered a novel experience. 

Though he hated to say it, he was bored. He was too scared to even consider writing anything yet, too scared of what words he might pour onto the page, and counting all 100 pages of every book, though a fun distraction at first, became a tired game pretty quickly after the fifth time. 

He didn’t like the silence. He didn’t want to think about the past few months, they were too painful. He knew it was selfish but he’d accepted that and knew he had to try and do whatever it took to distract himself from confronting his fuzzy memories. The best method he found to do this was by watching his clock. 

It was his only connection to the outside of his cell and prison, letting him know what stretch of the day it was and allowing Dream some sense of time, which he was very relieved for. It allowed him some sense of structure and routine that he was fairly certain he would be worse off without. 

The clock didn’t tell him the date though, and he soon lost count of the days he’d spent in there, losing himself in the slowly rotating images the clock displayed and wondering if time really stretched out that long over the course of a few days or if he'd been in here for months- years, even? He really wasn’t sure, and he tried not to think about it. Because if it had been longer it’d mean he’d been here by himself, forgotten, with not one visitor. 

_-Obviously. Who would want to visit you? With all the pain we’ve caused together. Even if they did visit you it’d be to yell at you. You’re lucky._

_-How long have we been in here?_

Night never answered. 

\--------------------------------- 

He hovered his hands in front of the lava, watching in fascination as they blistered from the heat and sharp pain jolted all the way up his arm. Sometimes the clock wasn’t enough and his thoughts were too loud and Night’s presence was too loud and he needed desperately to find something to distract himself with, so he’d turned to what was really his only alternative.  
He’d started off less extreme, sitting cross legged a safe enough distance away that the heat on his face was equivalent to a mild sauna, and he’d basked in it like a cat in sunlight for as long as it took for his skin to blister. It was strangely satisfying, peeling it off and gasping at the pain when he pulled a little too hard and droplets of blood began to trickle down his face. The pain was so different from Night’s pain. Night’s pain had overtaken his whole body and was hard to describe, it was so overwhelming that the first time Night had been disappointed enough to punish him with it he hadn’t been present again for at least several hours. Night had seemed fascinated by this, and using pain as a punishment became his new favourite hobby, playing with anticipation and intensity almost constantly. 

This pain was more controlled, more natural. It hurt, but it reminded Dream he was present, he was here, and all Night could do now was talk. It was also a distraction. 

He gradually moved closer and closer to the lava to perform his experiments of sorts, fascinated by the way his skin would turn red and blister over time. He would get sweaty and light headed after longer sessions, passing out on more than one occasion. But it was something to do, something to keep him occupied and away from his mind.  
He’d died a few times from heatstroke- the first time being the worst. He was practically touching the lava where he lay next to it, eyes spinning from it’s intense light and head spinning from a lack of hydration. He could feel himself slowly slipping into a faint, but his head was too muddled to figure out why he should care. His head lolled forward and he was suddenly overcome by extreme, intense pain, mouth open in an agonized scream but filled instantly with more lava, burning his face from the inside out. 

The next thing he knew, he was falling into his cell’s pool, no burns or evidence of any injuries he hadn’t already had prior to the prison. Trembling, he pulled himself out of the water and huddled on the opposite side of the lava, eyeing it fearfully. He wasn’t ready for that kind of pain. Not yet, anyway. Was that his first life? Taken by falling into lava in a cell made specifically for him and his wrongdoings? How poetic. 

_-No, you idiot. You only have one life left anway. The warden must have tethered this cell to be a free-respawn area. Those are very hard to come by- the amount of totems and energy needed- Well, let’s just say I’m surprised they wasted it on you. And that he managed to install this without ever telling me. Guess that shows how much suffering you caused that they want you to suffer forever with no escape. Die as many times as you want in this cell, Dream. We’ll always be back._

Dream wasn’t so keen to test that theory out anytime soon, the shock of dying and in such a painful way, then suddenly respawning without any evidence of injury, was quite a lot to process in a short amount of time. And, the other thing Night just said. 

_-What do you mean only one life left? I-I have all three. I’ve been so careful. I have all three._

_-I’d say sorry, but you know I’m not. Those children are surprisingly resilient._

He hugged his knees closer to his chest, not sure why exactly he was trying to hide his shaking hands. The only other entity here was Night, and he always knew all of Dream’s movements. He supposed it was just instinct. 

He didn’t leave his hunched position in the corner for about a day, blank eyes staring at his scarred hands that were no longer burnt, mind empty save for Night, and when he finally did it was only to stop the cramp from settling in. He couldn’t look at the lava for several days, tensing whenever his mind became aware enough to feel the heat of it on his back. 

His days-long bouts of dissociation were finally broken when his mind honed in on the gentle ticking of the clock instead of the bubbling and hissing of the lava. He found himself counting the ticks in groups of 100, slowly grounding himself back to his body and using the regular pace to structure his breathing. 

It took about a week before he could play his game again, hand centimetres from the lava to distract him from his swirling thoughts. Now he knew he could die without consequence he was curious. A wave of excitement built up as he suddenly pondered the opportunities for new experiments. If his hand burnt off completely so he became effectively amputated, would it remain gone after he respawned? He was pretty sure it would, based on the lack of evidence of injury from the first time, but finding out for sure was exciting. Something new! He felt giddy at the possibilities. 

He started with his finger (on his left hand, just in case it was permanent), slowly dipping the tip in the lava. The pain was agonising, and instantly his eyes filled with tears as he let out a pained whine, but he continued on, gritting his teeth and biting the inside of his cheek so hard it began to fill his mouth with blood. 

He managed about 20 seconds before he withdrew his hand, cradling the limp limb as he gasped and panted, blood slipping through his teeth down his chin. His finger wasn’t completely gone like he had expected, instead it was completely black and covered in horrifying blisters, and it **hurt.** He felt light-headed just looking at it, and thought maybe this wasn’t the best way to approach this. He couldn’t stand the feeling of it, and if he wanted it gone he would have to die again. He glanced at the lava again, and decided to forgo overthinking, letting himself fall in, eyes and mouth closed this time. 

It was just as painful as the first time, but this time when he respawned he felt a sense of relief as he glanced down at his now fully mobile fingers and the sudden lack of pain. His chest still felt tight, and the echoes of the feeling of molten heat quickly eroding his skin were still very loud, but he hadn’t thought about George or Sapnap or anyone else that whole time, and that in itself was reason to feel lighter. They wouldn’t want him thinking about them, and it always hurt when he did, and though this hurt was more intense, he much preferred it. It was simple, he could understand it, and he could control it. 

He could control it. 

He turned to face the lava again, trembling hands and tear streaked face juxtaposed against a liberated smile. 

Night was quiet. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy wants to visit Dream in prison. Dream remembers when they first met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i speedran this to try and keep the momentum going. it's a little shorter, sorry, but it's mainly to set up the next chapter. i've planned a lot for this story and it's plot which is unusual for me, but i've decided to just write and publish the chapter without overthinking it like i usually end up doing bc that has ended a lot of my projects in the past lmao. anyway hope u enjoy !!!

Tommy was the first to visit him. He hadn’t really expected a visitor, between Night’s constant whispers that no one would want to and his own insistence on trying to forget any person to whom he and Night had caused harm; so when the lava that had become his greatest friend and torment began to drain, he hadn’t been sure he wasn’t dreaming. 

The netherite blocks that formed a line in the floor that he had previously assumed was to indicate the safe distance from the lava were pistoned up to block his ability to reach it, and Dream stood up to take in the first thing he’d seen in a while that wasn’t the four walls of his new residence. 

- _What’s happening?_ He asked Night 

- _I assume this means you have a visitor. The **child.**_ it sneered 

- _Tommy?_

Night didn’t reply but it didn’t need to as the lava drained enough for Dream to see Tommy’s figure in the distance, standing nervously next to Sam, who, according to Night, was the Warden of this place. He certainly looked the part, all 6’7” stood rigidly serious, so different to the last time Dream remembered seeing him- laughing outside the community house as they fished, relaxed and comfortable as Sapnap yelled at George over some stupid joke he must’ve made. Dream had never seen him look this stone-faced, hand clenched around a formidable-looking trident as he somehow made Tommy’s 6’1” look puny against his gleaming enchanted armor. Dream had never felt scared of Sam before, but clearly a lot had changed. 

Tommy looked the same, if not slightly taller, though it was hard to tell with the way he hunched over slightly, wringing his hands together as Dream’s cell became more exposed. He was wearing the same red and white T-shirt he always had, though it looked a lot cleaner than the glimpses he could remember of it from his exile. Dream flinched minutely at the thought. _Tommy_ was visiting him? 

Night, though initially angry at the sight of the person that had caused his imprisonment, suddenly perked up. Dream did _not_ like the possible indications of that but knew there was little he could do about it, so focused instead on composing himself. 

He had last died about half an hour beforehand, so he looked pretty presentable- as much as he could be in here, at least. No grotesque burns he was sure would put Tommy off. His heart beat faster in his chest. He’d been stuck between dreading and longing for a visit, but those had all revolved around George, or Sapnap, or Bad, or Puffy. Never Tommy. 

_Why_ was _Tommy_ visiting him? 

He hadn’t known the kid very long before Night, but he’d grown quite fond of him in that short amount of time. He’d known Technoblade had a younger brother, but he certainly hadn’t been expecting the chaotic whirlwind of a child that had approached him after one of his championships wins. 

\--------------------------------------------- 

“Hey! You! Green bitch!” an aggressive voice had called out to him. Bewildered by the forwardness and aggressiveness of the greeting he had spun around to be greeted with the wide grin of a child he estimated to be around 15, with the braces to match, who was only slightly shorter than him. 

“Uh, hi? Who the hell are you?” He had asked, amusement filling his tone. The kid let out a barking laugh. 

“Ha! You really answered to bitch! Guess even though you won this time you know what you are!” He said, smugly. Dream wasn’t sure how to respond, completely baffled and wondering where the hell Sapnap had gotten to. 

A much shorter child suddenly burst into the room, frantically scanning it until he saw where the pair stood, a growing look of despair forming on his face. He had grabbed the boy’s arm, groaning. 

“Tommy! Stop harassing all the competitors!” 

The child, who Dream figured was called Tommy, turned his grin to the boy, laughing again. “But Tubbo, Tubbo, my _friend_ , you fail to realize the power I have when they hear me call them a bitch to their face. They just don’t know what to say!” 

The shorter child, Tubbo, seemed to look even more despaired. “Tommy!” he hissed, “ _Please_ tell me you haven’t been going around calling every competitor a bitch to their face.” 

“Hey, man, I gotta make my impact somehow.” 

“ _Tommy._ ” 

“Hey, come on, big man, you gotta admit it's funny,” 

Tubbo muttered something under his breath and seemed to be about to respond again until he suddenly processed that Dream was standing there, watching their exchange at a loss. 

“Oh my _God,_ Tommy. Tell me you didn’t just call _Dream_ a bitch.” 

“No comment, Tubbster,” was the smug response. 

“ _Tommy._ Oh my _god.”_

“He responded to it, Tubbo! I mean, that’s just embarrassing for him, really.” 

“ _Oh, my G-,”_ he sighed, interrupting himself after finding it futile to try and deal with Tommy any further, and turned to look up at Dream, “Hey, uh, Dream- uh, Mr. Dream? Uh, sorry about him. He’s just like that. He’s sorry too.” 

He looked pointedly at Tommy, who rolled his eyes. 

“He is _not_ sorry too, Tubbo. Stop putting words in my mouth, that’s called purposely misconstruing my personal narrative.” 

“Can you stop using phrases you’ve heard Wilbur use without context, Tommy?” 

“Hey, don’t get it twisted! _Technoblade_ said that one.” 

At this, Dream stopped trying to find a way to politely tell these kids they had to leave the premises, as amusing as he was finding them, and instead looked at them questioningly, interrupting their conversation that had quickly progressed into an argument. He was pretty sure this kid was just a fan trying to leave an impression, but, just in case he wasn’t- 

“Technoblade? You know him?” 

Tommy turned back to face Dream, smirking. “Hell yeah, I do. He’s my brother, bitch boy.” 

“ _Tommy,_ ” Tubbo groaned again. 

Dream arched an eyebrow from underneath his mask. He’d heard Techno mention having two brothers before, a twin and a younger one, who he often complained about being a lot to handle. This kid certainly fit the bill. 

“His brother? What, did he let you loose to try and annoy me out of competing next time so that he might actually have a chance at winning?” he taunted light-heartedly. 

Tubbo snorted, then looked as if he immediately regretted it, while Tommy’s jaw seemed to almost drop in shock. Dream panicked for a second, wondering if he’d maybe gone too far, but that worry was dispelled completely when Tommy guffawed, then began to laugh uproariously, clutching his sides. Tubbo rolled his eyes at the extreme reaction but there was a fond smile on his face that told Dream these two were definitely close friends. He smiled slightly, thinking of George and Sapnap. 

“Ha! You’re funny, bitch boy! I have to say I wasn’t expecting that- honestly I thought you were going to be all ‘Don’t talk to me, I’m too good,’ like a prick, you know? Ha! Hey, I was kinda disappointed Big Man Technoblade didn’t win this time, but you’re not so bad. Hey, I’ll beat you when _I’m_ in the championships, though. Watch me!” 

Though still slightly taken aback by the energy of the boy, Dream decided to play along. 

“They don’t allow children in the championships, though? Well, they do, but they have to be talented.” 

This time, Tubbo was the one to burst into laughter, giggling as Tommy’s face flushed red. “ _Hey_! I take it back! Fuck you! I hope Techno beats you so bad next time you won’t even be able to compete again out of shame! Utter shame! Actually! I hope you _do_ compete again so I can kick your ass too and then you’ll be double shamed! Bitch boy!” 

Dream let out a chuckle himself at the outburst. If this kid was really Technoblade’s brother, which he was inclined to believe he was, they couldn’t be more different. He certainly seemed ambitious enough to be his brother, though, and despite his skinnier frame, Dream saw potential in the kid. It took a lot of confidence to approach the winner of the championships and swear at him like he just did, with no hint of shame, and Dream knew that confidence could get you a long way. And the way he and Tubbo interacted reminded him so much of Sapnap and George he couldn’t help but feel warmed towards the pair, despite the strangest of introductions. 

He could see in the slightly tense shoulders and in the way his eyes kept flitting back to look at Dream, despite now arguing with Tubbo again, that the kid was nervous, yet he barely showed it. That was impressive. He’d have to ask Techno about him, see if he could offer him any advice or training if he wanted it. But for now he had a celebratory party with his friends to attend, jolting back into reality as he saw the annoyed figure of Sapnap standing in the doorway, surveying the room similarly to how Tubbo had previously, until his gaze landed on Dream and he huffed, marching over to grab Dream’s arm. 

“Dream, why the hell are you in here? We’re all waiting for you, and you _know_ Ant’s gotta go soon, dude, c’mon.” 

He barely registered the two children, much to Tommy’s chagrin, simply glancing at them before yanking Dream’s hoodie in the direction of the door. 

“Hey, don’t ignore us, bitch!” Tommy fumed, and this time Tubbo didn’t bother trying to reprimand him. 

“Uhm, bro, I don’t know who the hell you are. Dream, why were you talking to a bunch of kids? I know you love your fans, dude, but _literally,_ we have a party for you and _Ant_ has gotta _go_ in a minute.” 

Tubbo snorted. 

“Hey! I ain’t no Dream fan, bitch!’ 

“Who the hell let this guy in, seriously. Someone needs to keep their rabid kid on a leash, I’m telling you.” 

“What the fuck?! You are fucked up in the head, Sapnap, seriously.” 

Dream let out a wheeze at that, startling the whole group. Sapnap glanced at Dream in confusion, hesitating slightly. 

Tommy seemed to brighten instantly at the noise, looking excitedly at Tubbo, then back at where Dream had begun to laugh. 

“Dream, what the hell?” Sapnap huffed, “Thanks for defending me,” 

This succeeded only to send Dream into another wheeze, longer this time. 

“Seriously, man? Wow, I see how much our friendship means to you, I guess,” Sapnap complained with faux offense. 

“H-He’s a literal _child,_ Sapnap,” Dream managed to force out between bouts of laughter, causing both Sapnap and Tommy to look offended. 

“Hey! I am _6’3”,_ I could literally beat you up!” 

Sapnap snorted. “No way you’re 6’3”. _Dream_ is 6’3” and you are clearly shorter than him. Plus, who is the one here that just won a championship? I’d like to see you try,” 

“Whatever. I’m still taller than _you_ Sapnap _,_ or should I call you _Bitch boy_? Get it? ‘Cause you’re a _bitch,”_

Tubbo muttered something to Tommy about being unoriginal as Sapnap turned his incredulous gaze to Dream, clearly questioningly. 

“Dream, care to tell who this annoying kid is, and why the hell are we still talking to him?” 

“Technoblade’s brother,” Dream answered, laughter calming down enough for him to talk. 

“ _Seriously? Technoblade’s_ brother? Are we talking about the same Technoblade? Tall pig guy with the pink hair and the crown and the monotone voice and bloodlust? _That guy’s_ brother?” 

“Yeah,” Tommy answered smugly before Dream could. “How does that make you feel, huh, _Sapnap?”_

Sapnap rolled his eyes then smirked, “Well, at least we know who got all the strong genes then; they were all used up on Techno.” 

“Hey! Fuck you! I’m strong!” 

“Yeah? Sure, I believe you,” Sapnap said patronizingly, nodding at him like he was speaking to a toddler playing make-believe. “That’s why I’ve never heard of you before, yeah?” 

“You will!” 

“Mm-hmm, I’m sure. Anyway, _Dream,_ I’m not joking, we’ve gotta go. You can argue with toddlers later if you want but everyone’s waiting for you.” 

Dream nodded and allowed himself to be pulled along by Sapnap, who sent one last calculating look at the two boys before turning to the door, while Dream waved at them. 

“Tommy!” he called out as he was dragged towards to exit, much to Sapnap’s annoyance as he groaned and pulled on Dream’s hoodie more insistently, “I’ll talk to Techno about maybe arranging a duel or two with you, if you want,” 

Tommy’s eyes widened significantly, face splitting into a wide grin, “ _Yes,_ big man! I’ll beat you, you know, just to warn you!”  
Dream chucked as he finally left the room, making a mental note to try and ask Techno about it before he forgot. His last glimpse of Tommy before he turned to face Sapnap was of the child animatedly ranting at Tubbo, who seemed to be equally as excited, nodding at every other word. 

“What a crazy kid,” Sapnap commented when the door closed behind them, letting go of Dream now they were in the corridor. “I didn’t think you were the type to offer random feral kids training, Dream, even if they are Technoblade’s brother,” 

Dream hummed as he fell into a comfortable step next to his friend, “I don’t know, he has potential, I think. Plus, he reminds me of you,” 

“You cannot be serious,” 

Dream laughed at his horrified tone, playfully nudging his shoulder. 

“I am! It’s not a bad thing, Sapnap. Anyway, where the hell is this thing?” 

“Literally at the end of the next corridor,” 

“Race you,” He smirked, already sprinting down the hall. 

“H-Hey! That is _not fair,_ Dream,” Sapnap spluttered, quickly trying to catch up, huffing in annoyance as he reached the door several long moments after Dream did. 

“Who said it had to be fair?” 

Still muttering under his breath, Sapnap pushed the door open, catching the attention of the room’s occupants. 

“Dream! I knew you could do it, you muffin!” came Bad’s voice as the tall man immediately made his way to the pair, engulfing Dream in a congratulatory hug. Dream hugged him back as best as he could, smiling. 

“Thanks, Bad,” 

“Where did you go?” George’s voice interrupted, slightly annoyed. Dream laughed as he released the hug and turned to look at his friend. 

“I went to the bathroom and got ambushed on the way back,” 

“Yeah, by some crazy rabid kid who apparently is Technoblade’s brother,” Sapnap interjected. 

“Whatever. I don’t care. Dream, you’ve got to help me figure out how to fix this cake icing,” 

Sending an apologetic glance up at Bad who simply giggled in understanding before turning to look for Skeppy, he let himself get dragged by the arm again, this time by George, who was intent on the table covered in frosting. 

“So, I thought I was supposed to use 400 grams, right, but…” 

Dream zoned his ranting out momentarily as his mind wandered back to his recent interaction. He’d been planning on starting his own lands soon, and he wouldn’t mind more people to visit or even live in them to help them flourish. A kid with such a bold personality would certainly liven up the place. Whether he would want to move or not, Dream couldn’t help but feel like he’d be seeing a lot more of this kid in the future. 

“Dream, you’re not even listening!” 

“Sorry, sorry. Go on, George, I swear, I’m listening now.” 

“You better be.” 

\--------------------------------------------- 

There was no indication of any of the lively enthusiasm Tommy had possessed on their first meeting when Dream looked at him now. It made Dream feel sick to his stomach. 

Flashes of Tommy’s exile flickered through his head in fast succession, which may have been Night but more likely himself, and Dream knew for sure in that moment that he _really_ didn’t want Tommy to visit him. He’d caused him so much pain, and he knew it was selfish of him to not want to have to confront that, but he _really_ didn’t want to. Just the thought of Tommy trembling in fear even in his own home made his chest tighten so much he thought he might be sick. 

_-We were going to lock him in here, Dream. Do you remember that?_

He didn’t. 

Night seemed the most awake it had been since he had woken up in here, and Dream prayed to every figure he could think of that it wouldn’t be able to try anything or hurt Tommy in here. 

He stood incredibly still as the lava finally drained below his cell, which he now realised was a small box encased inside a much, much larger one, and found himself involuntarily holding his breath as he watched Tommy’s gaze flit around at the lava anxiously. He made some sort of comment to Sam, full of false bravado, and Dream could almost hear the sound of it straight from his memories, but Sam didn’t show any outward reaction, and the distance between the edge of his cell and where Tommy was standing was too wide for any sound to travel. 

He closed his eyes to ground himself, taking a deep breath and opening them again to see Tommy step onto a stone platform that began to travel the distance between them. It was impressive, to say the least, and Night had told him before Sam had made everything in here. He’d always been good at redstone. 

Wiping the few droplets of blood that had accumulated on his palm, where he had unintentionally dug his fingernails deep into, on his hoodie, Dream waited. 

Tommy stepped off the platform and onto the obsidian on the other side of the netherite barrier, avoiding eye contact as the lava outside slowly began to drip down again, encasing the two in the cell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tommy visit next chapter :) !  
> it will follow most canon events to a certain extent, obviously with some differences, and then diverge completely around tommy's last visit. that's when i have a lot of stuff planned hehe.  
> dialogue is not my comfort zone so i hope it wasn't too bad or ooc


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy's had mixed feeling about Dream after the final confrontation. Maybe visiting Dream will help clear his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tommy POV! this one's a bit longer, hope u enjoy! i did write over half of this at like 4am so very sorry for any mistakes- i'll edit any if i spot them. tommy's recent streams have been depressing (pls give tommy a break omg) but none of plot beyond tommy's last prison visit will be added here, just to let you know. also, ik the tags say im a dream apologist, but by that i in no way excuse his smp character's actions, i just love cc dream so would enjoy him having an smp character who isn't evil, hence this fic, so the irredeemable character in this is Night intead. just to clear things up. srry this is a bit long, just wanted to explain. enjoy!!!!

He wasn’t sure this was the best idea, the whole ‘Visiting Dream in prison,’ thing, especially now that the only thing separating him and the man who had become something that was all a little too confusing and upsetting for him to think about for too long, was a thick wall of lava. 

Despite the radiating heat from the lava warming his face, the room he was in was mostly cold, much like the rest of the prison. Sam was cold too. Though he knew the whole Warden role was serious he hadn’t anticipated a complete lack of emotion from the man he’d grown much closer to recently. 

It was weird, how the idea of being so close to Dream felt so daunting and almost unreal, whilst just a few months ago in exile he had seen him close to every day. Maybe that’s part of why he almost felt obligated to visit even in the face of the nightmares he’d had in the lead up to the visit that weren’t even very violent, just involved a little too much of being cold and alone and trapped with nothing but Dream’s voice offering him any kind of reprieve. But now when he awoke, he was _home_ rather than in a slanted and weathered tent he could never get to stand up quite right, in the middle of a field by himself. And he had Tubbo back. Tubbo, who would often hug Tommy tight when he awoke in his bed in a cold sweat, wavering voice telling him it was fine now, that Dream was locked up, that he wasn’t exiled anymore, and that he was sorry, _God, I’m so sorry Tommy, I’m sorry, I’m sorry._

Tubbo wasn’t the same anymore. Neither of them were. His face still bore the burn scars from when he was executed at the festival he had decorated himself, and the horns that had more than once caused him to break down in Tommy’s arms with panicked and desperate sobs- asking over and over for a confirmation thathewasn’tlike Schlatt, right? He wasn’t, Tommy, _right_?- were growing longer by the day. 

He used to tell Tubbo everything, but he didn’t think he could anymore. Tubbo certainly didn’t, artfully avoiding any topic of conversation he didn’t initiate. He wasn’t sure he _could_ tell Tubbo everything, even if he tried. He doubted he could tell himself. It was hard to muddle through the mess inside his head, and Tubbo had his own things to deal with. 

He dreamt about Tubbo sometimes too, Dream’s axe pushed far too deep into his neck, blood pooling and spilling down his front as milky white eyes looked at him sadly, saying _this is checkmate, Tommy, this is it,_ blood now pooling from his mouth and hitting the floor to the sound of Dream’s satisfied laughter. Those ones were the worst, and when he woke from them with tears on his cheeks to the sight of Tubbo’s worried face he could only sob into his best friend’s chest, holding him tight for fear he might disappear if he let go for too long. 

Tubbo didn’t have as many nightmares as Tommy did- if he did he kept them a secret- but on the rare occasion his whimpering woke Tommy up he would try to reciprocate the calming tactics that had always worked on him until Tubbo slipped away to get ready, wiping tears and emotions away with his sleeve. 

Tubbo didn’t know he was here, and he didn’t plan on telling him. He probably wouldn’t understand the strange pull towards the man who’d almost killed them and was now imprisoned only as of the result of his own hubris. 

Well, Tommy didn’t understand it either, but its presence was undeniable, infiltrating his thoughts no matter what he was doing, like a parasite. He’d thought they’d gotten rid of him but he was still following Tommy wherever he went. 

Maybe if Dream had been completely and unabashedly evil from the start it would’ve been easier. Because for every memory of Dream’s looming figure telling him coldly to put his armour in the pit, or telling him he was the only one who wanted to go to his party, or threatening to kill Tubbo, there were several of him laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe at a stupid joke Tommy had made, or offering him a healing potion when he saw the bruises he’d gained from training for too long despite Tommy’s exasperated complaints that he wasn’t made of glass, or boasting about Tommy without knowing he was within earshot after his first championship, saying he knew that kid had talent, he did so well, he should be proud of making it so far. 

It was hard to connect the two in his mind. He didn’t know when Dream had changed. He missed him. He missed him and that was the hardest part about all of this because when he can’t breathe for a minute when the lights turn off and when he hears the whispers of the Tubbo from his dreams or the whimpers of Tubbo’s from his and when he sees the way the lands are trying their best to recover but failing to fix the cracks that only grow wider between each other and themselves, leaving no one unaffected, he finds it easy to hate Dream, to feel relief in the fact he was gone now, forever. But when he stares at the community house for too long he can’t help that ache in his chest. 

Exile had been the worst. He had been so lonely. Hell had been his own head. Dream’s visits had made him happy even though he can recognise now they shouldn’t have. And despite knowing he didn’t owe Dream anything, he couldn’t help but feel he owed him at least one visit. He’d be safe. Maybe he could get some form of closure. Maybe seeing Dream trapped forever with his own two eyes will allow him to sleep a little easier. He’s been arguing about it with himself for days. 

But now he was here, cold and warm and minutes away from seeing Dream again. He didn’t know what he was going to say. He certainly wasn’t going to give Dream the satisfaction of knowing how deeply his actions still hurt, so he tried to stop thinking so loudly. He knew how to be loud and annoying, they were traits he’d proudly worn as self-imposed monikers for most of his life, so it felt easy to slip back into that persona, throwing comment after comment at Sam even though he knew he wouldn’t get any response beyond a ‘Face the lava, please, Tommy,’. 

The lava finally began to drain enough that Tommy could visibly see the large obsidian room it filled, but his awe at the structure wasn’t long lived as his attention was soon drawn to the smaller room that was Dream’s cell in the middle of it. His heart pounded as Dream’s figure came into view, standing almost frozen at the front of the cell, staring directly at Tommy. 

He wasn’t wearing a mask. 

He had never seen Dream without his mask, and he was fairly certain no one had- not even Sapnap and George, his closest friends, so it felt almost fundamentally wrong to visibly see skin. He couldn’t make out many details due to the distance, but he could see the way his hair fell across his face and reached just below his shoulders, wavy and clearly in need of care. 

“Alright, Tommy, you'll need to stand on the bridge and you’re gonna have to move with the bridge as it goes towards the prisoner,” Sam instructed, gesturing with his trident to the stone platform Tommy was stood on. 

“Okay, okay,” he nodded, moving closer to the front. 

“Once you get to the other side, I’m gonna have to pull it back and you won’t be able to get back on the bridge, do you understand?” 

“I underst- understood,” Tommy confirmed, stumbling over his words slightly as his anxiety spiked at the sight of Dream still standing, unmoved, so close to him. 

All of a sudden the bridge began to move across the top of the lava and he let out an exaggerated scream of panic as he stumbled slightly, before regaining his balance and moving to the centre of the platform to reduce his chances of falling off. 

“What the hell, man?” he exclaimed, “Holy shit!” 

The piston mechanism was impressive- this whole building was, and the fact he had built it so fast was insane.   
He barely had time to collect his thoughts before the platform had reached the other side and now the only thing separating Tommy and Dream was a netherite barrier. 

“What the fuck?” he muttered as he processed what he was looking at, “These are _netherite_ blocks,” He turned to look from the barrier to Sam, who had his hand wrapped around a lever. He let go as the lava slowly began to trickle down again. 

When it had filled the outer room completely, the barrier receded into the floor, and Tommy, after taking a deep breath and swallowing, finally turned to face Dream at close quarters. 

His eyes were the first thing he noticed, a vibrant green he hadn’t necessarily _expected_ but somewhat predicted. Green was his colour, after all. 

A long clean scar ran vertically across the skin above and below his right eye, yet with no visible damage to the eye itself. There were many more scars surrounding his left eye, ranging from almost faded thinner scars to what looked like claw marks. Once again, the eye itself seemed undamaged- in fact, they almost looked as if they were glowing, but it must’ve been something to do with the lava reflecting off of them. They were currently blank, as if he was spaced out completely. 

The next thing he noticed was the freckles dotted across his whole face. He could say with certainty he hadn’t expected _them-_ the Dream in his mind ranging from a friendly-looking young adult with a clean shaven face to an outright monster, maybe void of any facial features at all, or with deep-set rows of teeth or 500 eyes or spikes protruding from his cheeks. He had to have _some_ reason for always wearing a mask, right? 

But no, Dream’s face had none of those things. Just _freckles._ Logically he knew freckles had no relation to age, but they made him seem younger. And combined with the rest of his face, which, while definitely an adult’s, still retained some remnants of teenage baby fat, they made his face seem so much less threatening than Tommy had anticipated. 

But he had scars that marred his face and acted as a reminder of how dangerous he actually was, though the only scar Tommy knew the origin of was the one across the bridge of his nose he’d gained when Technoblade had sliced through his mask with his sword in one powerful stroke, causing Dream to panic and request a time out to allow him to fix the break before his face became exposed to the huge arena they’d been fighting in, blood slipping through his fingers as he desperately covered his face with his hand. Technoblade had agreed, then beaten Dream in the following round, but he’d been impressed by Dream’s ability to come the closest anyone had ever come to defeating him. Tommy remembered being in awe the whole time, obviously rooting for his brother but also enjoying the fact this relatively new contender was actually providing Technoblade a challenge. 

Being able to rise the ranks of respect so quickly was Tommy’s dream, and he’d admired Dream ever since, and when he’d finally met him for the first time at the championships he’d been starstruck, though he’d tried not to show it. Retrospectively, calling him a bitch may not have been the best way to leave a first impression, but clearly it had worked when a few weeks later Technoblade had asked in confusion if he’d actually talked to Dream or not, because Dream had been asking Techno about him. 

The rest of the scars on his face looked older, some much more so- a lot of the ones around his eyes were almost faded completely. He guessed that made sense; Dream had only gotten stronger since the duel and the championship season, almost exponentially stronger, and he would be surprised if anyone except Technoblade would be able to come even close to putting a scratch on him in a 1v1 fight. 

Well, not now. Now he was in prison, and he wouldn’t be going anywhere outside of this cell for the rest of his life. _Good,_ Tommy thought, _Fuck him._

“Hi Dream,” he greeted the man who was still standing unnervingly blank faced with his fist clenched. At the sound of Tommy’s voice he seemed to snap out of something, blinking and turning his head slightly to look at Tommy better. _God,_ it was weird to see his face. He’d been so used to the singularly expressioned mask that it was so hard to associate the young, green eyed, _freckled_ face in front of him with the voice that had burrowed its way into his thoughts and nightmares. 

“Hello,” he replied, voice softer than he’d thought it’d be. _Don’t let him manipulate you again, Tommy,_ he told himself, laughing at the absurdity of his situation. Dream was no longer frozen still and instead was pacing around his cell, almost nervously. _Remember what he did to you, Tommy. He’s evil. He’s not **nervous.**_ His pacing was something Tommy was used to, though. Dream was always moving. 

“This is-'' Tommy began, taking in the cell and its few features, laughing sharply again as his anxiety lessened slightly at the undoubtable fact that Dream was definitely in here and definitely trapped. “You must feel so embarrassed,” 

Dream stared at him from where he was now standing at a cauldron full of water he supposed was acting as a sink, and took a while to respond, almost as if he couldn’t process the words. When he did answer it was with a shaky breath. 

“I’ve been going _crazy_ in here,” he said, tone light but with a tighter undertone. 

“Mmhm, well, you sure _sound_ it,” 

He was pacing again, most likely unintentionally. It set Tommy on edge. 

“Well, because there’s like, just- You’re the first person to visit me, but I’ve just been alone in here this whole time with this lava and-,” 

“Did you miss me?” Tommy interrupted, overlapping the end of Dream’s sentence. Dream turned to look at him, the sight of his face once again freaking Tommy out. 

“...Not really, but…” 

“Really?” he interrupted vacantly, now moving on to searching the few things that decorated Dream’s cell. There really wasn’t much, and the book that lay on the lectern was completely empty. 

“So, what have you been up to?” he asked, genuinely curious. Probably fantasising about evil ways he could kill everyone if he was granted his freedom. Which would be never. 

“...Um,” he hesitated, then turned to open the chest in the corner of the room to reveal a large pile of books and quills, “Uh, I’ve been writing,” he said, though he seemed unsure in his own words. “Well, not yet, but- I’m going to,” he added, abruptly closing the chest almost as quickly as he’d opened it. He then made his way to where a clock was fixed to the wall in an item frame, showing the pair that it was close to noon. 

“I like watching the clock,” he explained, sounding almost excited to show it to Tommy. 

“What are you going to write? Are you going to write a biography?” Tommy asked instead, not letting Dream change the topic. Dream seemed to think for a moment before answering, glancing at the clock a few times before he did so. 

“I don’t know, I feel like I’ll write _something,_ ” he answered, walking back over to the lectern and the chest, “I’ll write… uh, I’ll write _something_. I have a lot of books; I can write whatever I want.” 

Nodding absently at the response, Tommy looked around the rest of the cell again. There was really only one other thing in there he hadn’t noticed until just now. 

“Why do you have a pool?” he asked, bewildered at the small but deep pit of water in the back corner of his cell. Dream walked closer to it to stare. 

“Uhm,” he sighed, heavily, “It’s-it’s, it’s because, um, that’s where, um, I fall when I respawn,” he explained, gesturing up at the hole above it. Tommy craned his neck to see it and he gasped in surprise. 

“What the shit? You come out of that?” he exclaimed, processing the implications. 

Sam had told him about how he’d been experimenting with totems of undying and various other rare materials to try and link Dream’s life to the prison cell to allow him to somehow escape a final death. He’d been trying to make something like that for a while, but obviously had no way to test it, since he wasn’t about to experiment on anyone in their lands for the risk it would fail. 

Dream was a perfect opportunity to try it out, he’d explained one day when Tommy had desperately needed a distraction and asked Sam to rant about something to him just so he could listen to his voice. Tommy had been unsure, asking if they really wanted to give Dream access to possible immortality, but Sam had brushed it off, saying the mechanism could easily be destroyed if necessary, and that it probably wouldn’t work, but either way, it would be heavily secure and protected. 

There weren’t many ways he could die in his cell, anyway, so it likely wouldn’t get the opportunity to be tested, but if he _did_ die and it worked, they still had Dream alive for any possible future of him offering up information about the supposed revival book, and a working machine to help them cheat death. And if it _didn’t_ work, oh well, at least they were rid of a tyrant and Sam could try again. 

Sam’s voice had been strained as he explained his reasonings, an undertone of desperation and loss clinging to his words, so Tommy had changed the subject, asking questions about the hotel instead. Sam had relaxed almost instantly, grateful for the change in topic, and keen to let Tommy be a _kid_ as he relaxed into his hotel persona, affectionately nicknamed ‘Sam Nook’. 

“Yeah,” Dream confirmed sullenly, kneeling down next to the pool and dipping his fingertips into the water, watching the way it swirled around as he moved them in circles. 

“Holy shit,” was all Tommy could say in response, noting to ask Sam later if it had worked, if he’d somehow managed to create something that would be so powerful and so useful. He didn’t trust Dream to tell him any answer that was truthful, so he’d have to wait until he could ask Sam. 

Dream stood up and dried his hand on the side of his hoodie. 

“Uhm…” Dream started, hesitant yet again as he stumbled to try and start a sentence. “So, what’s been going on? How are you?” 

He seemed genuine, painfully reminding Tommy of a time before all of this shit happened, but he had to take a deep breath and remember all the shit this guy had done. 

“You fucked up, you know. You know, everyone hates you now- you’re like a dick now- everyone goes ‘Dream the dick’, they call you ‘DD’- ‘Dream Dick,’,” he said, easily falling back into his usual speech pattern. Dream had no power here. “Oops, no, ‘Dream, _the_ dick,” he corrected himself, “‘D _T_ D,” 

“Well, I mean, I’m in prison now, so-” Dream said, genuine tone now mostly faded, “I’m in prison, so they-th-they have- there’s no reason for them to hate me anyway, right?” 

“No one really likes you, bro,” Tommy responded, turning away from Dream’s guarded face that was only continuing to freak him out to look back at the clock in the picture frame. He absentmindedly twisted it to the right but was mildly shocked when, instead of resisting the force like he assumed it would, it instead spun to the right, then continued to turn as Tommy twisted it further until it was back in its original position. 

“Hey, look at that clock spin,” he said as he continued to twist it around, transfixed. He stood back slightly as Dream watched him in curiosity, allowing him to try for himself. He immediately became captivated by it, rotating it around several times in quick succession. 

“Oh, that’s pretty cool,” he said, twisting it again, “That’s a new game!” 

Tommy watched him excitedly spin it again and again, with growing incredulously, letting out a bemused chuckle as the man’s attention raptly became focused on the clock. Deciding he was bored and slightly disturbed by this strange moment, he reached over and grabbed the clock out of the frame before Dream could turn it again, dropping it on the floor to watch it spin, where it did until Dream picked up, seeming almost concerned for it. 

“My clock,” he said, voice soft as he gently placed it back into the item frame. Amused at the way Dream seemed to be attached to it, Tommy removed it again, this time holding it in his fist, wondering if Dream would try to grab it or something. 

Instead, he stared at where it was held in Tommy’s hand, seemingly waiting for him to let go again so he could put it back. When he’d waited a few moments and Tommy had still made no indication of doing so, he frowned almost pitifully. 

“ _Tommy,_ give me my clock,” he said, slightly more insistently, though there was a hint of desperation behind his words. 

“Or what?” Tommy smirked, chuckling. He held the clock up closer to his face, enjoying the power reversal. 

“...Well-” 

“Gonna kill me?” he interrupted, “Then your server won’t be fun anymore- you said it yourself. Turns out- I’ve actually had all the power over you all along. I just didn’t know it.” 

Dream was silent, and Tommy decided to put the clock back in the item frame. Dream was evil, yeah, but he wasn’t going to stoop to his level. 

“You can your clock back, though, I mean, you’re gonna be in here for a long ass time, so,” 

“That’s true,” Dream replied softly, already walking back over to the clock to spin it again, “I kinda need it,” 

Something about his tone made something uncomfortable settle in his stomach, the implied loneliness reminding him a little too much of his own in exile, and his soft voice reminding him a little too much of the Dream he’d first been friends with. 

“I keep thinking I feel bad for you,” he blurted out suddenly, “and yeah, I mean, I did feel kinda bad for you, but you were actually going to kill my best friend, and, uh… and hold me in here,” 

Dream’s gaze slipped to the floor, causing thick strands of matted hair to fall onto his face. 

“That’s true,” he said faintly, somewhat hesitantly. 

“You would have put me in _here,_ ” Tommy emphasised, and now that he actually knew where he’d have been locked, the admission felt novel. 

“That’s true, you would’ve been in here,” 

“...This is really,” Tommy began after a short pause, taking in the cell again as a whole and seeing just how pathetic it was, “This is a really sad sight,” 

“Well…” Dream sighed, “I mean, it's not _too_ bad, I mean, I-I can write and I can read and they bring me- they bring me food, uhm, to eat. They just bring me raw potatoes, though.” 

“Deserved, it’s deserved,” Tommy responded with conviction, though directing it more at himself than at Dream. “This is a really…” he muttered as his gaze jumped around, unable to finish his thought. Dream had crouched by the pool again, looking into it melancholically. 

“Hey, Dream, are you getting all sad?” he taunted, watching the man look up defensively. 

“No-” he objected, withdrawn, before he was cut off by Tommy again. 

“Hey Dream, hey Dream, watch this,” he goaded, “I am your best friend, Dream, I am your friend, and I will come and visit you ev-e-ry day,” he turned to grab the clock again and held it over the pool, “By the way- by the way, throw this in this _hole_ I’ve made! Does this remind you of anything, _prick_? _Prick boy_?” he ranted as Dream’s gaze followed the clock’s movements closely. 

“Yeah, you’re a bad guy,” Tommy concluded, huffing, his sudden burst of energy fading as Dream continued to look up at him pathetically. 

“Dude, I’d like- I’d _like_ if you visit me, you can visit me, like, I- just- _please_ visit me,” Dream eagerly replied, voice small but hopeful. Tommy groaned, placing the clock back again. 

“I don’t _want_ to visit you every day, like, it took _nearly an hour_ to get in here.” 

“...Well, if I don’t- if I don’t-” 

“And it’s just sad. You’ve been exiled, bitch! Oh no, you’ve been imprisoned.” 

There was another uncomfortable silence. 

“Maybe- maybe I’ll. Be better and- then you’ll let me out,” Dream suggested, though his tone was desperate and he seemed expectant of Tommy’s immediate answer. 

“No!” 

“...Really? What if it’s like… a long time and I’m- I’m behaved, and I’m better.” 

His pleading voice made Tommy pause and really take in Dream’s appearance. He was wearing the same clothes he’d been imprisoned in, still caked with dried mud in some areas, and the only real difference was the most obvious; his lack of a mask. Which was still jarring. But now he looked closer he could see how gaunt his face was, how tired his eyes that were jumping around the room to avoid eye contact were, how tangled and knotted his hair was, how slumped and defensive his posture was. 

“You look really bad.” 

Dream’s hand twitched. 

“Tommy, I’m sorry.” he said sadly, and it sounded sincere. 

“Really?”  
“Yeah, I’m sorry.” 

His voice’s low timbre and miserable quality made Tommy hesitate. God, this was so confusing. 

“For what?” 

“Uhm, for everything that I did to you,” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” 

He knew Dream was very capable of manipulation- he’d proved that many times over the past few months. This was probably manipulation. It was almost certainly manipulation. But he recognised that same resignation Dream’s words carried in them. He _knew_ what that kind of helplessness felt like. Dream had caused it. 

“How do I know you’re not lying?” he offered as a neutral consideration. 

“Uhm, I mean, I have no reason to lie.” 

Tommy mulled over his response in his head. 

“...Yeah, but you could’ve said that last-” he cut himself off in frustration, “Okay.” 

Dream waited in silence for Tommy to continue, but Tommy was already thinking about ways to make this whole situation easier for him to work through. The silence hung for a few moments more before Dream decided to break it. 

“...I’m glad you visited me,” he said, mouth twitching into a slight smile. It quickly faded when Tommy suddenly marched over to his chest, pulling out several books. 

“Please don’t take my books.” 

“No, I’m not going to. Dream, I know that- I can only help but not forgive you completely.” 

“Okay,” Dream nodded, like he expected Tommy to say that. 

“However, I have an idea for you, that I think will make me forgive you.” 

“...Okay…” Dream said again, more confused but more hopeful than the last time. 

Tommy mostly ignored him as he began to scribble down titles on the front page of each book, smirking to himself as he made them increasingly absurd. 

“I’m going to ask you to write five novels as homework,” he explained as he wrote, laughing to himself. 

“...Okay.” 

“I want at least 10 pages for every single- at least _15_ pages for _every_ single novel, and I’ll be back in like, I’ll be back in at least… 3 to 4 days.” 

“Okay!” Dream responded eagerly, nodding in agreement. “Okay.” 

“And these all need to be wrote. Because you’ve really fucked with all of us, you know.” 

“Okay! I have plenty of time! I have t- I have time- all the time in the world.” he reassured Tommy, picking up the now titled books from the floor. 

“Yeah, you really, um, you really fucked with all of us, Dream, and everyone thinks that it’s really bad- But I think if you could prove it to me, by writing me some novels, maybe I’d start to kinda forgive you for every single terrible thing you did to me.” 

“Okay.” 

“Because I’m not out here to just push you around, you know?” Tommy continued, ‘I’m not- I’m not out here to, um… to- to _manipulate_ you, Dream. Because you manipulated me, and you manipulated so many people, and you were actually, um, the _reason_ why- why the server was _shit_ for a very long time. And even though it’s got a long way to go it’s about to start being about ok. But the person who needs to fix themselves the most, Dream, is you. And you can do that. By writing- by writing my novels.” 

“...Okay.” Dream agreed, solemnly, and he opened the first one to read the title aloud. 

“‘A guide on how to get girls.’” 

The cell fell silent as Tommy tried to contain his rising need to burst into laughter at Dream’s apathetic face. He didn’t succeed for very long, letting out a sharp pearl of it, then falling into amused giggles. 

“Okay. I can do that,” Dream finally agreed, placing the book he was holding on the lectern and the others piled up on top of the chest next to it. This only resulted in triggering another bout of laughter from Tommy, who bent over at the waist as he cackled at the absurdity of the situation. 

“I-I-I-I understand there was a _lot_ of silence after you said that Dream,” he managed between his laughter. Dream conceded to the sudden change of atmosphere and gave a half-hearted chuckle that sounded more perplexed than amused. 

“You’re gonna have a great time,” Tommy said, laughter calming down, “You’re gonna have a great time!” 

“...Yeah.” Dream responded with mimicked enthusiasm that fell flat. 

“Listen, 3 to 4 days, okay?” 

“Okay. I will- I will, um,” 

“You will have that all fixed up for me then, yes? You’ve got a lot of thinking to do. I can therpise- I can be your little therapist, if you’d like. Tell me how you’re feeling.” 

He was rambling again now, he knew it, but if he didn’t ramble he didn’t know what he’d be doing so this was safer. Jokes were safer. He waited for Dream’s response as the man hesitated. 

“...Uhm. Sad.” 

“Why?” He asked. He didn’t doubt Dream was sad. Anyone locked in a giant inescapable prison for the rest of their lives would be.   
“...’Cause I lost my friends,” 

“Yeah, you didn’t- they-” 

“And all my stuff. And my server. And you.” 

“Yeah-” 

“And my lives.” 

“No, yeah, you only have one life now,” Tommy muttered. They were on the same footing in that respect. He hadn’t even been totally sure Dream was able to die before he’d killed him twice- the aura the man carried with him was one of power, and though he’d happily answer _all three_ when asked how many he had, something about him seemed otherworldly, in a way, as if he didn’t follow by the 3 life rule at all. That had been disproven harshly with the swinging of an axe and the splash of blood. 

“I think I’ve diagnosed you already,” he spoke up again after another dip in conversation. “You are just a- you’re just-” 

He sighed. Months ago he’d have happily called him a bitch, then laughed. But it wasn’t the same. It’d been like an affectionate game of sorts, he realised, with insults tossed around at each other but with the knowledge that it was light-hearted. That they didn’t really mean it. Tommy wasn’t sure he didn’t mean it anymore. 

“How do you feel about losing your stuff?” he asked instead. 

“Bad.” 

This wasn’t getting anywhere. 

“Who do you miss the most?” 

Dream fell quiet. His hands clenched and trembled slightly. Ah. 

“...I think you should go, Tommy,” he eventually said, quietly but controlled. 

“Who do you miss the most?” he asked again, more insistently. 

“I think you should go, Tommy,” Dream repeated, voice wavering. _Now_ he was getting somewhere. 

“No, tell me who you miss the most.” 

Dream walked over to the lava, ignoring Tommy completely. 

“Guard!” He yelled into the molten rock, the loudest he’d been since Tommy had got here. “Guard!” he shouted again, more desperately, when there was no immediate response. 

“No, no, no, no, no, no, guard, guard, guard,” Tommy mocked in frustration as Sam’s voice filled the room through what must be some sort of speaker system. He’d been _getting somewhere._ “No, _guard, guard, guard_ -” 

“Tommy wants to leave,” Dream informed Sam firmly. 

“Who do you miss the most, Dream? If I were you I would miss Sapnap,” he joked. Dream didn’t laugh. 

“Are you ready to leave, Tommy?” Sam asked him. With the way Dream stubbornly refused to even look at him now, he guessed he wouldn’t be getting much more out of him today. 

“Yes.” 

As soon as he said it he felt a pull, and suddenly was stood on the opposite side of the wall of lava, next to Sam. 

“What the fuck?” he asked, disorientated. He knew Sam had made him set up an ender pearl stasis, but it still had thrown him off. 

“Welcome out,” Sam greeted him. 

“Bye Dream!” Tommy yelled into the lava, knowing full well it was highly unlikely he’d be able to hear him. 

“Follow me,” Sam instructed when he turned around again, so he followed him down the blackstone staircase, mind still reeling as he tried to process the past 20 minutes or so. 

“Did you enjoy your visit?” 

Tommy let out a breath of laughter. 

“I don’t know why part of me is all like, ‘Oh, he sounded sad,’. I mean, for the past _year_ that guy has literally mani- he-he ma- you remember when I was in exile? How sad I was? Heis trying to manipulate me right now. God, am I insane?” 

He let out another incredulous laugh as Sam led him back through the prison in silence. 

“I’ve gotta clear my mind. That guy is literally a diagnosed psy-cho-path. I’ve just diagnosed him. It’s not been long enough for him to magically change his ways.” 

They’d made it about halfway out before Tommy stopped ranting at himself and Sam, sighing. Although this Warden Sam was incredibly intimidating and he much preferred normal Sam, or Sam Nook, it was comforting in a way to have someone listen to you rambling your inner monologue without commenting on it. 

“So how are you, Sam?” he asked, friendlily, keen to put the visit at the back of his mind for now, at least. 

“I’m okay,” he answered back simply. 

“You’re a strange- you’re just- you’re strange,” 

“How am I strange?” 

“You just- it’s all a bit weird,” he mumbled. Sam’s ability to completely change his projected personality was very unsettling. Now his rant had been listened to, what he really wanted was to be able to laugh with Sam, not throw jokes at him that were returned only with silence or more instructions. 

“It’s very serious, Tommy.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m not a very serious guy,” Tommy shot back. He would’ve agreed with that statement completely a few years ago. Now he wasn’t so confident in it. 

He stuck next to Sam until they finally reached the prison entrance and he gathered all of his things from the locker room. Sam instructed him on how to leave once he was in the entrance room. He waved goodbye to Sam as he felt himself being pulled into the entrance portal. Sam nodded in acknowledgment before he disappeared from Tommy’s sight completely. He entered the portal again to reach the opening of the prison, and let out a deep breath before stepping outside completely. 

He squinted his eyes as they adjusted to the brightness of the sky that contrasted against the deep black and dim lighting of the inside of the prison. The air was fresh and cool against his skin. He grinned. It was so much better out here than in there. Obviously- but it made him all the more grateful that he was able to live here now, free from the tyranny of Dream and without the threat of exile.   
Dream was now stuck there forever, and the server would be a lot happier for it. He wandered about the server aimlessly, mulling over the visit. 

He wondered if Dream was going to write the books or not. He didn’t really expect him to, but it’d be damn funny if he did. Maybe he could convince Sam to let him take them out of the cell with him if he did, so he could read them when he needed to laugh or gloat about his new ability to make Dream write about stupid shit. 

He kicked a stone off of the path he was walking on and watched as it rolled into the grass before slowing to a halt. He sighed. Dream was stubborn; he’d probably not write a single word to spite him, or write something too serious for the subject and make Tommy look stupid. Whatever. He was the one in jail, so it didn’t matter what he wrote- Tommy would have the upper hand either way. 

He continued down the path, taking in all of the buildings that made up the lands as he walked past, feeling strangely nostalgic. They’d built this place up from nothing, and though Dream had tried to tear it down and tear them apart they had claimed it back. It was _theirs_ now, no matter who created the lands in the first place. He was making a hotel here. He was allowed to. He was no longer exiled and he never would be again. 

He spotted Tubbo talking to Ranboo just past the Community House, and grinned, breaking into a jog to go and greet them. This was a time for celebration, he thought. Everything would be ok. 

“Tubbo!” he yelled in greeting, causing Tubbo and Ranboo to whip round then relax as they saw Tommy’s figure hurtling towards them. 

“Hey, let me tell you about my hotel-” he began as he reached the pair, his visit to Dream now pushed to the back of his mind once again. He’d deal with his feelings about that later. Now was the time to celebrate, he reiterated to himself. The green bastard was really gone, and Tommy felt free. Because now he was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for 4k hits and all of the kudos and bookmarks omg I'm very grateful <33 i'm trying to get more written asap haha because i want to get to the stuff i'm rllyyy excited to write.   
> once again, hope u enjoyed this chapter <3\.   
> next chapter will be dream POV again, and perhaps a visit from a certain 7' tall demon who likes muffins owo

**Author's Note:**

> ty for reading <3 comments fuel my motivation so any comments are vv appreciated  
> also i hate ao3 formatting it took me too long


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